


maybe it's the bad luck (or not)

by tarnisheddhero



Category: Camila Cabello (Musician), Fifth Harmony (Band), Lauren Jauregui (Musician)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarnisheddhero/pseuds/tarnisheddhero
Summary: You, Camila Cabello, are late to a party. Nothing seems to be going your way until you spot a familiar face in the crowd.





	maybe it's the bad luck (or not)

You're late to the party. This was the only thought racing through your head. But it wasn't your fault, you convince yourself. What happened to you was a series of unfortunate events that happen to the unlucky, with today's victim being you. 

It happens like this. First, you've stained your dress. You're drinking a can of soda, waiting for the cab you've called in front of your house. As the orange drips from your lips and onto your shirt, the cab arrives. What wonderful timing, you think. You rush to indoors, sprinting towards your bedroom to pick out another dress of a similar kind, a shade of elegant blue. Your fingers hurriedly struggle with the zipper at the back before running back outside and into the cab, apologizing profusely to the driver for keeping him waiting. 5 minutes late. 

Next, the cake isn't ready yet. You complain to the manager, explaining that the party is in an hour and you've ordered the red velvet cake roughly a week ago. You need it now. 

"Miss Cabello, you may buy one of our available cakes," The manager calmly reassures, although his features are flat and tone bored, "Please forgive us, we'll give you a 50% discount." 

You acquiesce to this only because you're running out of time, and you'll take what you can get. This is how you find yourself purchasing a cake less fit for an adult birthday celebration and more so for a birthday shower, with colorful m&m's sprinkled a top, and blue cursive that spells out "It's a boy!" (although gender is indeed a spectrum). You can only hope Lucy forgives you for this. 15 more minutes late. 

As you step back inside the cab, a stereotypically-gendered baby shower-themed cake in hand, the third circumstance unfolds. It starts to rain. It wasn't a soft pitter-patter, however. It was a sort of violent precipitation, angry raindrops clashing atop the roof of your cab. This rain, surely, will cause a traffic jam, you think. And you were right. 30 minutes late. 

You arrive at the venue exactly 50 minutes late to the event. It stops raining as you step out of the taxi and onto the streets, scrambling your way to the gate of Lucy's house, almost slipping from the damp road beneath your feet. 

The place isn't what you expected. It's a mansion, not at all what you would think coming from your humble colleague at the office. After a deep sigh of relief, you knock at the door. 

A man in a dark, gold-buttoned suit and cuffed sleeves answers the door. He inspects you from head to toe before asking for your name and letting you in. 

"Camila!" The host calls out from the other end of the foyer, "You're late!" 

"Yeah," you respond, meek and mellow in embarrassment, "Sorry about that, Luce." 

The host, Lucia Vives walks up to you, grinning and bright-eyed, stretching out her hand out for you to hold. 

"Come on, it's fine," She assures, intertwining her fingers with yours, "You have to meet the guests around here, you'll absolutely love them." 

As Lucy drags you around the long stretch of her home, your eyes dart start to around every room you enter. You haven't met anyone like the people Lucy knows. She brings you around, introducing to you to people of what you assume are of a higher caste than you, one much more elite. You meet doctors, politicians and CEOs. Formalities are exchanged through polite greetings and handshakes, and, quite frankly, you quickly grow tired of it. 

Then, you see her. At first, you don't recognize her, but you keep staring anyways; so much so that you reckon you've bore holes at the back of her head. It wasn't because you knew her in an instant, but because she naturally stood out out amongst the crowd. Just like everyone else, she was in formal attire, but it was only her that catches your attention. The emerald dress gracefully draped from her body, perfectly fitted, flowing freely, yet still accentuating her full figure. You conclude it's the most brightly-hued dress of the entire evening, drawing everyone's eyes to the woman's dashing beauty. 

It all clicks when you meet her gaze. Her eyes were a familiar rich green. Think verdant swathes of grass and gleaming gems of jade. And god, you think, today, the universe really isn't in your favor. 

But there was something different about her this time. You notice how her wavy midnight tresses that normally reached to her mid-torso were chopped to the length right above her shoulders. Her skin was tanner—sun-kissed and glowing, cheeks a soft tint of rose from gleeful laughter. Her smile was wider, happier, and her eyes crinkled, the light within them dancing with mirth. This was nice too, but just different. 

Your thoughts are cut off once you hear Lucy's voice. 

"Lauren," She gestures towards the other girl, then to you, "Meet Camila." 

You panic, the color draining from your face, your clammy hands beginning to twitch. Your lips curve into an uneasy smile of acknowledgement of Lauren's presence. 

Lucy, unaware of what you feel is very obvious discomfort, continues, "Camila, meet Lauren." 

You're rendered inarticulate, mouth dry and unable to say so much as a single word of greeting. All that floods your mind is your past with her. You recall all the regrets of how it went down because god, she deserved so much better. The guilt creeps up to your chest, almost like a tangible burden, as if it were physically weighing you down. You remember the break-up; how even then, you couldn't utter but a syllable, the words stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

"We've already met actually, Luce," Lauren says, a hand on Lucy's shoulder, voice soft and courteous,"And we're quite good friends." 

You don't understand what's happening. Memories still race through your mind. Angry yelling, tears, shattered dishes. Empty promises, unfulfilled hopes, wishes, dreams. Surely, something was wrong. This can't be the Lauren you've once known. 

A genuine smile graces her ruby red lips, "Aren't we, Camz?" 

You still don't know what to say, trying not to leave your mouth agape in puzzlement. You expected something else, something different. She decides it to be anger, resentment, infuriation, or maybe even blaming, sorrow and a silent sense of pure loathing for you. After all, you had broken her heart. 

It was nothing like that, though. All you saw in front of you were kind emerald eyes and a warm, forgiving smile. Of course, you suppose, she's more than this. 

"Yeah," You mirror Lauren's same smile, "We definitely are." 

And you think, you should've expected better from her anyway. Maybe your luck wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
